Nephillim
by Enochian Whisperer
Summary: Although Nephillim are extremely rare, there is an increasing number of nephillim skirmishing on Earth. These nephillim pose a threat because they've begun to target the Winchesters specifically. Team Free Will must discover who is behind this uprising and put an end to it.


Although he wasn't physically with Sam and Dean, Castiel was keeping an eye out for them. He couldn't watch over them 24/7, but when he could spare the time, he would. As a celestial wavelength, Castiel was tuned in, and was observing.

The room the boys were staying in -like many of their past rooms- had a trending pattern. The theme of this room was aquatic, giving the atmosphere a somewhat tropical feeling. Dean was taking a close look at the sheet of silicon bubbles that dotted to the ceiling. Judging his expression, the older brother was intrigued, yet somehow put off. The walls were deep oceanic blue, and there were fish wallpapered. A large fish tank was set into the wall, and its filter bubbled. All kinds of small fish swam in the tank. Although he was normally against spending so much money on a room, Dean figured -and even argued- that they deserved a good room for once, not "some shell shack to hole up in". They worked for it. They earned it.

After appreciating the fish tank, Dean plopped down on his bed and began to unlace his boots. He heaved a relieved sigh. It was nice to be able to finally relax a bit. He fished in his duffle bag for his night shirt and... nah, he didn't feel like wearing pants tonight. He was burning up. Boxers would suffice. Plus he was too tired to take a shower. That would come first thing tomorrow. Right now he just wanted to hit the hay. Castiel saw Dean reach to scratch at his burn scar. Dean yawned, and simply kicked off his pants. He traded his ratted t-shirt for a muscle shirt and ambled off to the bathroom. His feet were killing him

"Scoot over, Sasquatch," Dean nudged his little brother aside so that he had room to brush his teeth. Sam shot a dirty look at his brother, but held his tongue. the argument wasn't worth the trouble, he decided. Instead, he shook his head, frustrated, and continued swabbing his own mouth. The mint was refreshing for his taste buds. He spit his rinse into the sink basin and then splashed water in his own face, scrubbing himself a bit to attain some degree of cleanliness. Dean copied him. He thought about their recent hunt.

It was another poltergeist routine, but this time it had been a game of finding the needle in the haystack. The spirit was haunting a cemetery to the extent that the expanse had been gated and locked fast. When they tried Missouri's concoction on the cemetery, it failed. Next try involved unearthing a body. But that wasn't exactly a frolic through the meadow. It took a lot of time to narrow down the possible stiffs that could have manifested as an angry spirit, and even then they still couldn't point to a specific body, because poltergeists didn't manifest physically, the way ghosts did. In fact, they were lucky that the poltergeist was even linked to a dead person. All in all, it was a tremendous pain in the ass, and Dean was aching by the end of the day. He could go for a massage right about now.

Castiel kept quiet, ever-observing. He only became unsettled when he spotted someone heading for the Winchesters' door. He looked like an ordinary man. Or rather, he _would_ have looked like an ordinary man, had Castiel not been an angel. He could clearly see the man's true form beneath, a skewered visage of something utterly abominable: a demon. In a flash, Castiel was outside. Before the man could touch the doorknob, Castiel seized the man by the face, and focused his energy into killing the creature that was possessing him. Discretion wasn't a skill of his, however. Bright lights shone from the man's eyes, nose and mouth, and he convulsed before collapsing.

Dean was alerted by the light outside the front bay window. The curtains were snapped shut, but the light still flickered through the cracks that the curtains did not conceal. Immediately Dean was on his feet and he yanked open the door. There was the angel, his friend, towering over a body that had been cast aside from the doorway. Said angel was staring down at the body, expressionless.

"Cas?" Dean's voice sounded more gruff than he intended, "What the hell just happened-?"

Sam was suddenly standing behind, looking over his brother's shoulder.

"Cas, what the hell?" he echoed.

The angel didn't say anything. He kneeled instead, to get a closer look. Something wasn't right about this. The man had indeed been a demon, but the angel sensed energy still circulating within the vessel-

Suddenly the man reanimated, and tackled Castiel. His back smacked the wall of the building, forcing a sharp sound from him. Dean and Sam flinched. It had happened so fast that they couldn't follow suit to help the struggling man.

"Cas!" Dean shouted. He backed up, keeping himself strictly between the rivaling entities and his little brother. It was primal instinct that he protect Sam no matter what. Castiel was fighting to keep the man's jaw from snapping on him, and trying to keep his hands away. Sam suddenly retreated from Dean, into their room. Dean flicked a surprised glance over his shoulder and having no time to think, he lunged at the attacker.

He tried to pry the man from the pinned angel, and managed to pull him far enough to hook he guy with a right swing. The beast retaliated too fast. Next thing Dean knew, he was sailing.

He rammed the side of his Impala and crumpled up on the ground. The man had swiped him good across the torso, and his ribs were killing him. His face and hands stung, where they had scraped the asphalt. Dean could hardly catch his breath, and looked up to see the man was refocused on Castiel. Sam came running out. He had the demon knife in hand. Good ol' Sammy.

Sam rushed at the two entangled beings. He staggered to a crouch, ripped the attacker's head back by the hair, and sank the knife into his back. Electric pulses crackled and Sam twisted the knife, thrusting it with more force, even though it was burning to the hilt. The creature didn't take well to Sam's riposte, and countered him with his own strike, rendering the younger Winchester unconscious. Dean almost yelled for Sam. God, his chest was killing him, but he couldn't give in. He wasn't going to let that bastard snuff his best friend or his brother–

Dean wrenched himself up with a hoarse groan, and he hobbled to the trunk. He yanked it open.

The creature was reaching for Castiel's forehead. He couldn't let the creature touch him there. He knew what the consequences would be, but he couldn't muster the strength to force the man off of him. He had very little room for retaliation. His fingers were dangerously close. His strength was withering. Castiel was afraid. He couldn't even think about Sam or Dean, because jaws gnashed and snarled in his face. Those teeth barring down on him were sharp and horrifically jagged, overlapping a row of straighter teeth in the back. This was no demon.

Dean didn't know what he was up against, but he ascertained that it wasn't a demon, because the knife hadn't done much damage. He came running with holy water, a silver knife, rock salt shells, and standard ammunition locked and loaded. His ignored the pain stabbing his chest.

The aggressor suddenly jolted. He choked. Pure light pierced from his abdomen, where a stab wound had been punched. Dean staggered to a halt and gaped. Castiel managed to manifest his blade, thanks to the little time that Dean and Sam alternatively purchased, and was pressing the dagger into the man as hard as he could. Energy simmered and crackled beneath the skin. The man's eyes and airways lit up again, and Castiel shoved the man off, slamming him onto the ground. The light was nearly blinding, and a thunderous crack resounded in the air. The energy chased out in all directions over the parking lot and against the building, sweeping over the two brothers in a gale of wind and scintillating light. Dean shielded himself, unable to believe it.

Castiel picked his leaden figure up, and he stared at the body, not even caring to brush himself off. Dean lowered his defenses, and looked on in silence. Then he made a run for Sam.

The creature was dead now, but the imprint it left behind was disturbing. Like an angel, this man had a wing span scorched on the ground. But these wings looked deformed. They were almost skeletal, with scarce traces of feather dustings. The wings looked webbed, like those of a bat.

"Cas, mind explaining what the _Hell _that is?" Dean forced out, after checking his brother over.

Castiel brought his eyes to Dean at last.

"...Nephillim."

* * *

**Notes: **

***Nephillim are technically half-angel, half-human hybrids only. But because the creature displayed in this chapter is half-angel, half-demon, I've lumped it in with the Nephillim. (I also couldn't find a technical name for a half-angel, half-demon creature.) **

***If the creature is half-demon, half-human, then it is called a Cambion.  
**

***Just as _Supernatural_ doesn't follow "canon" mythology exactly to the letter, the employment of Nephillim (and possibly Cambion) mythology in this work of fiction may not follow "canon" mythology to the letter.**


End file.
